


Curiosity Killed the K—

by rixsig-writes (rixsig)



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, kaoru having Extreme Thirst, kaoru trying and failing to be chill, kaoru trying and failing to be subtle, rei being horribly amused in the background
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 19:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19341271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rixsig/pseuds/rixsig-writes
Summary: Kaoru finally checks out one of Valkyrie’s lives, but he wasn’t expecting their choreography to beanythinglike this.





	Curiosity Killed the K—

**Author's Note:**

> i watched the memory of marionette stageplay and this was the result. taiki is too powerful he cannot be stopped

Kaoru leans against the wall nursing a water bottle during practice while Koga and Adonis dance their little hearts out, and maaaaybe he’s stretching this ‘short break’ out further than he should be, but Sakuma’s way too distracted with his cup phone to give Kaoru any flak for it. Koga’s shooting him dirty looks in between moves—as if it isn’t a massive improvement that Kaoru’s even showing up nowadays—but that’s nothing new. Kaoru just taunts him with the rise of an eyebrow and takes a longer swig of water. 

Really, he should be getting praised for this. After all he’s doing a spectacular job pretending that the person talking on the other end of the string isn’t the real reason he keeps standing there.

That side of the conversation isn’t audible of course, no matter how much Kaoru tries straining his ears, but the little he gleans from Sakuma’s side is already perking his interest in very unfortunate ways. He’s gone this long not seeing any of Valkyrie’s lives—he’s managed to float away from most lives he’s not personally involved in, after all—and he hadn’t ever planned on breaking that streak, but…

Well…

Maybe he’s gotten a little more interested in a certain classmate these days. Who’s to say?

 

* * *

 

Kaoru mingles with the noisy crowd, throwing smiles at all the girls he can recognize through the dim lighting, and waits for the show to start. That curtain on the stage is new since the last time he’s been here. Did Itsuki put that up?

This underground livehouse is a place Undead’s appeared more than once, what with Sakuma’s sensitivities and all, but it seems a bit unusual for a Valkyrie performance. Maybe Sakuma had a hand in arranging it…? Kaoru keeps hearing about how Valkyrie needs to be doing more lives to stay afloat. Otherwise Kaoru could see Itsuki turning his nose up, saying ‘a place like  _ that _ isn’t suitable for Valkyrie’s needs’ or whatever. He wonders what all Itsuki’s done to the stage just for this one performance, if the venue’s really giving him full reign.

As the minutes drag on the people grow restless, but exactly on the hour a single, long note pierces through the din—the violin heralding the slow parting of the curtain—and everybody’s chatter softens into curious whispers and giggles. 

Slowly the statue-like silhouettes of two figures are revealed, the violin descending into an arpeggio, and the moment it hits the lowest note the curtain stops and they explode into movement. With the aggressive music, the searing lights, their sharp, strong steps...the entire livehouse falls quiet, completely held hostage. Condensation drips from forgotten drinks, the normally rowdy crowd standing slack jawed next to die-hard Valkyrie fans who wave old, chipped penlights in glee, pinpricks of glowing red in a still, dark sea. 

This really isn’t the kind of atmosphere Kaoru’s used to from this place, but this stage has never seen Itsuki Shu, has it.

Kaoru’s beginning to think he’s never seen Itsuki Shu before either.

Sure, he’s always known the guy was intense—he’s seen him gesticulating wildly in the hallways of Yumenosaki just like anyone else—but it’s always only ever come across as kind of funny. But those effusive hand movements, those piercing eyes, that passionate voice...it all translates  _ completely _ differently when it’s on stage. He exerts an overwhelming force over the entire arena, every step swift and sure and perfectly timed, every twist of his wrist and curl of his fingers inviting the eye to linger. 

Not to mention, um, were Valkyrie performances always this...suggestive?

Shu sinks low to the floor as his hand runs down the entire length of his body and Kaoru nearly swallows his own tongue in shock. Is this the same guy that never shuts up about ‘vulgar masses’ not appreciating ‘true art?’ If anyone asked Kaoru what he thought Valkyrie performances would be like, lots of hip movement would not have been  _ any _ of his guesses, but here Kaoru is, eyes traitorously glued below Itsuki’s waist. 

“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” comes a faintly amused voice.

Kaoru jumps. “S...Sakuma-san!” he hisses under his breath. Of course he’d be here too. “Ugh, don’t put your mouth so close to my ear…”

Sakuma just chuckles as Kaoru makes a show of tilting his head away and rubbing it. “But it would be a shame to talk too loudly and disrupt the spell of the performance. After all, you seem to be enjoying it.”

Kaoru shrugs as casually as he’s able. “Yeah, yeah. It’s pretty good. Don’t know if I’ll stay the whole time, but...”

“I’m surprised to see you here at all, Kaoru-kun.”

“What? I’m not allowed to check something out when I’ve got a little free time? I used to work here, you know.” 

Luckily Sakuma just hums, dropping the topic, although Kaoru doesn’t trust that little sparkle in his eye. Kaoru’s had enough of feeling seen through for one day, thanks. But once Sakuma moves on, spotting someone else in the crowd to bother, Kaoru’s left with only Valkyrie and the stage to focus on. For a while he tries to look at the footwork, tries to dissect the singing, tries anything to keep his mind from going down that rabbit hole he was getting lost in before Sakuma arrived, but it’s impossible. 

Itsuki Shu’s choreography is just too horny to ignore. 

Does he know? Does Itsuki  _ know _ ? Kaoru feels a little voyeuristic watching the two of them perform, like he’s intruding on an intimate moment, and wow he really understands the rumors about Itsuki and Kagehira a whole lot better now. But there’s no way Itsuki would intentionally construct a show that way, right? The prickly, victorian-style guy who gets flustered and confused when Kaoru so much as mentions swimsuits or leans too close when talking to Mademoiselle? He’s gotta be repressed or something. That’s the only thing that makes any sens— 

Kagehira abruptly stops in the middle of the stage, spotlight trained on him as Shu strides up behind, hand coming around possessively in front of his neck. Kaoru watches wide-eyed as that hand drags down Kagehira’s chest. 

Kaoru has maybe forgotten to breathe properly.

“Ahhh, Itsuki-sama please step on me!!” comes a fervent whisper to his left. 

And fifteen minutes ago Kaoru would have busted a gut laughing at that, but now all he can do is stare at this girl who’s strangling a homemade Valkyrie fan in her passionate grip and feel the  _ worst _ sense of kinship.

Kaoru spends the rest of the live in a daze, unable to concentrate but unable to make himself leave. He keeps thinking about that hand, and the look on Itsuki’s face: proud and self-satisfied, showing off what belongs to him. Like...Is that allowed?? Kaoru gladly shakes his own hips up on stage every time he’s up there, flirts and winks and maybe even gives the mic stand a little hand action, but he’d never do...do  _ that _ . It’s just so...so…

When the music stops and the curtains close Kaoru makes the worst possible mistake and stumbles over to a nearby hallway instead of immediately escaping. But who could blame him, right? His head is spinning, his face is flushed, his legs feel like jelly...he just needs a good five or ten minutes to press his forehead into the wall and have a crisis in peace. Is that so much to ask? 

“Hmph. How many times do I have to tell staff that I don’t care to be disturbed by fans before it finally sinks into their witless sku...wait. Hakaze?”

Every single cell in Kaoru’s body freezes over.  

“That is you, isn’t it? Are you unwell?” 

Kaoru instantly peels himself from the wall and smiles. “Ahaha, I’m fine, I’m fine~”

Itsuki’s piercing eyes comb him over from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, not seeming to believe him. Oh god Kaoru’s starting to sweat. But Itsuki looks pretty sweaty too, fresh out of a demanding performance, breathing just a little hard and skin glistening under the lights. Kaoru wonders if Itsuki smells any different now than how he usually does in class. Less like potpourri and starched shirts and maybe more like— 

Oh god oh god why is he thinking about Itsuki’s sweat.

“Hakaze!”

“H...Huh?!”

Itsuki clicks his tongue and steps in close, putting a hand to Kaoru’s hot forehead. “Honestly, what are you doing in a place like this if you’re feeling so ill you can hardly pay attention? Surely whatever date you have will understand you going home when you’re in a state like this.”

“I don’t have a date,” Kaoru mumbles without thinking. 

Itsuki blinks. “Then why on earth are you here?”

Now Kaoru’s caught sight of Itsuki’s neck, the delicate lines of muscle running down to Itsuki’s collarbone, which normally is obscured by that high-collared shirt. But Kaoru’s finding out that after a live Itsuki’s shirt is damp and a little clingy and it’s hard to make out but if Kaoru looks really hard he can see the suggestion of those collarbones through the material and—

Itsuki sighs sharply. 

“Just felt like it!” Kaoru squeaks out a full minute too late. Embarrassing, embarrassing, he wants to sink straight through the floor and die. “But you’re probably right, huh? I’m just gonna...go…”

Itsuki’s hand latches onto his arm and yanks him still before Kaoru can even take two steps away. “Alone? Non. I’ll fetch Rei, he can escort you—”

“No!” Kaoru blurts, gripping Itsuki’s shoulders. “Um. I mean. Please don’t? I don’t really want to talk to him right now, you see…” Because if Sakuma saw him somehow he’d know  _ exactly _ what was going on and Kaoru would never be able to show his face at school ever again. 

“Whyever not? Well. You must allow  _ someone _ to accompany you. I won’t have you fainting in the street.”

But Kaoru’s already distracted again, realizing that his hands are still on Itsuki’s shoulders. They’re thin but strong, and not quite as wide as you’d expect for how tall he is. Kaoru could probably push just a little and press him up against the wall and then he’d be in the perfect position to ki— 

Kaoru yanks his hands away like he’s been burned, taking a step or two back for good measure. Itsuki looks shocked. “Sorry, sorry,” Kaoru says, probably sounding more breathless than effortlessly breezy, “guess I got dizzy there for a second.”

Silence falls and Kaoru fidgets. It’s scary the way Itsuki’s looking at him, eyes half-squinted like he’s trying to pry right into Kaoru’s soul. God, he wishes Mademoiselle were here. Then Kaoru could just strike up a conversation with her instead of...doing whatever this is.

“Your pupils were quite large just then,” Itsuki says slowly. “Even for this low light.”

Kaoru’s hand goes halfway up to cover his face before he catches himself and drops it back down again. “W...Wait, what does that mean?”

“Well.” Itsuki pauses, almost as if for dramatic effect. “Dizziness and dilated pupils are possible signs of a stroke.”

“What?!”

Surprisingly Itsuki just laughs.

“H-Hey! That’s not funny!” Kaoru sputters, crossing his arms. Did Itsuki seriously just imply that Kaoru was acting like a  _ stroke victim _ ? He should escape now before his already tattered dignity gets thrown right in the shredder. “This is the worst. Getting insulted by a guy? I’m out of here.”

But again Itsuki grabs Kaoru’s elbow before he can get very far, stepping in close. Way, way too close. Kaoru can see every individual eyelash, every whorl of color in those sharp, lavender eyes. Itsuki’s other hand comes to steady him at the waist before Kaoru even realizes he’s gotten off balance. 

Itsuki’s hand.

The flashbulb memory of that hand dragging down Kagehira’s front comes back and punches Kaoru square in the chest with the force of a wrecking ball. Itsuki’s saying something, probably something Kaoru should be listening to, but he doesn’t hear a single word. All he can do is watch those lips shape themselves around the vowels, heartbeat pounding so strong in his ears that the whole noise of the livehouse comes through faint and slow, like everything is underwater. 

And now Itsuki’s tugging him down the hallway, further away from the crowd—and if they’re going where Kaoru  _ thinks _ they’re going then he should yank his arm out of Itsuki’s grip and spit out whatever excuse comes into his head first, but the only thing he can find rattling around in there is a sudden fixation on the short, sweat-slicked hair at the back of Itsuki’s neck, and the brief flashes of pale wrist from under the frilled cuffs of his shirt.

“H-Hey…!” he tries, but when Itsuki answers with a simple ‘yes?’ he doesn’t have anything to follow it up with. “Uh. Um.”

Itsuki ushers him through the dressing room door. 

Empty. Kagehira’s absence is conspicuous. Isn’t that guy almost always glued to Itsuki? Didn’t they just finish a live together? Where is he? Kaoru stands in the middle of the room as the door clicks closed. They’re the only ones in here and the door is closed. That’s fine. This is fine. 

“Hakaze?”

Kaoru can’t get this mouth to function properly so all that comes out is a strangled ‘hm??’

“You’re even more flushed than you were before.”

“Ahaha…”

Itsuki’s hand passes over Kaoru’s shoulder, light as a whisper, and then comes to rest on his burning neck. Kaoru can feel those fingertips dipping back under the collar of his shirt to rest on the knob of his spine. A full-body shiver rips through him. 

“Perhaps you should sit down.”

The tone of Itsuki’s voice catches Kaoru’s attention, like there’s an invisible smile lurking in the corner of his mouth. There’s a certain glint in his eyes too, a gentle mischievousness that Kaoru would associate more with Mademoiselle than with Itsuki. Kaoru clears his throat. “I’m fine,” he answers faintly. 

The hand retreats and Kaoru exhales in relief. Definitely relief.

“Well then,” Itsuki says, shedding his jacket and carefully arranging it on a hanger. “this should only take me a moment. Then I can accompany you back.”

It takes longer than it should for the words to register, distracted as Kaoru is by Itsuki untying the ribbon at his neck, by the post-live freeness that has Itsuki popping open the first buttons of his shirt without hesitation. Kaoru chokes on his spit. Itsuki’s a prude, he’s supposed to be a prude, why is this happening right now?

Itsuki immediately looks over at him at the noise, and Kaoru waves a frantic hand in dismissal, fixing his eyes somewhere up by the ceiling. Kaoru can see that collarbone now out of the corner of his vision, the shirt open down to mid-chest. “I’m fine, I’m fine~ M...Maybe I should wait outside though…?”

“Hmph. Absolutely not. Stray fans have been prowling the halls all night. They’d likely be thrilled to swarm you, considering.”

Considering what?

“But I suppose if this bothers you…” Itsuki turns so his back is facing him. Kaoru can only tell he’s continued unbuttoning from the movement of his arms. It is less overwhelming this way, although now that he can’t see it his brain won’t stop trying to  _ picture _ it.

Breathe, Kaoru. You unfortunately see dudes taking their clothes off all the time getting stuck in dressing rooms with Undead. This shouldn’t be that different. You can get through this. You can get through this. You can get through th— 

Itsuki’s shirt falls down around his shoulders and comes to rest above his elbows, revealing a whole expanse of pale, delicate back to Kaoru’s eyes. Kaoru makes a rough noise. That’s too much. That’s too much skin to look at. It’s too much skin and suddenly all that skin is way, way too close. Itsuki turns to look at him in surprise. When did Kaoru move? He must have—he wasn’t this close before— but now Itsuki’s mouth is open, caught halfway through a word, and Kaoru’s hands shoot out to hold onto Itsuki’s bare upper arms like he’ll fall right over without the support.

He kisses him.

He kisses him hard and slightly off-center, and Kaoru swears he’s usually more coordinated than this—he’s had plenty of kissing practice at least, okay?—but his body feels like it can’t decide between running a marathon and passing out cold, and he might be shaking a little too he can’t really tell.

He swallows a noise out of Itsuki, a shocked one like a string plucked off-key, and pulls away. Oh god. Oh no. He did that. He really went and did that. While Kaoru is panicking about it Itsuki primly wipes a patch of wetness from under his bottom lip. Kaoru’s heart sinks.

“I was at  _ least _ going to try and take you to a more suitable place first,” Itsuki mutters, vexed. 

What?

“What?” Kaoru tries to say. 

But then Itsuki is pulling him into a kiss of his own. Careful and precise, too precise, like he’s thinking too hard about it. Kaoru melts anyway. He can’t help it. Itsuki’s strong, delicate hands are holding him, and if Kaoru wanted to he could slide his own hands under Itsuki’s open shirt and see what the rest of Itsuki’s skin feels like under his palms.

Itsuki’s back hits the wall, and Kaoru feels the soft gasp against his mouth. “You,” Itsuki pants, breaking the kiss. “This isn’t the proper—”

Kaoru’s mouth finds itself at Itsuki’s neck somehow, tasting salt on that skin.

“H-Hakaze!” Itsuki yelps, scandalized. “Here?!”

Kaoru just whimpers in reply. Itsuki  _ wants _ to kiss him, he knows he does, so why is he getting all fussy about it now? If Kaoru stops then he’ll have to think, and Kaoru’s trying his absolute best not to do that so he can ride this sudden wave of courage, thank you.

Luckily Itsuki must be a little out of his mind too: without any more protest he fists his hands in Kaoru’s hair, pulling him into another kiss and twisting around until Kaoru’s the one backed up against the wall. Kaoru whines, clinging and pulling insistently at Itsuki’s shirt until it falls to the floor and he can run greedy hands over the whole of Itsuki’s back. Kaoru’s lips feel bruised now, but he doesn’t care. He wants to keep doing this for hours and hou—

Knock knock knock. “Oshi-san?”

They freeze solid.

The handle jiggles. “Hey, Oshi-san, you’re in there right? Why’s it locked?”

Itsuki clears his throat. “Kagehira. Wait for me outside.”

“B...But what about all that stuff in there? Dontcha want any help—”

“Non! I’ll manage just fine.”

“Well...if ya say so…”

Itsuki peels himself off of Kaoru and stiffly retrieves his shirt from the floor. Kaoru stays put, breathing hard, afraid to move from the wall. His knees would definitely give out. That would be embarrassing. 

But by the time he’s gotten a hold of himself Itsuki’s already dressed, all prim and proper and untouchable, the only tell-tale sign of what happened being a slight redness to his lips that wasn’t there before. Kaoru doesn’t know what he looks like—he can’t bring himself to look in the mirror so he tidies himself blind—but Itsuki’s eyes catch on his face and stare for a second before moving on to open the door. 

“After you,” Itsuki says.

To Kaoru’s great disappointment they don’t kiss again that night, but you know what? It’s...weirdly nice being walked back home.


End file.
